


Guilty...

by Dubbrubz



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Hospitalization, Injury/Comfort, M/M, Matt is a Cinnamon Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubbrubz/pseuds/Dubbrubz
Summary: In which Nate gets into a car crash while on tour and Matt feels guilty as fuck because he wasn't there





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Request]

Nate peeked his head out from the backstage, smiling brightly when he looked out upon the anticipating crowd, the room a buzz of energy. His career had blown up tremendously after a few months of his first original album being released. Everyone seemed to love it, leaving them to show it to their friends, who, in turn, did the same. Andy could be heard chuckling behind him as he stepped back behind the thick black curtain. "Well, someone seems excited." Nate turned back to him with a mischievous smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked curiously. "Dude, this is an absolute blast!" The brony shook his head.

"You look like a little kid who hit the candy jackpot." And, indeed, this description was true. The musician's ebony eyes sparkled brightly, his dimpled smile never failing as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"This is like the candy jackpot for me, ya nerd."

In that moment, Nate's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his smile seeming to widen, if that was even possible. "It's Matt." He informed Andy, who nodded and stepped out of his way so he could bustle to the green room that had been stocked with snacks and sodas for he and the other musician and talk to his boyfriend. "Hey, sweetheart!" He chirped. Matt sounded cheerful and a bit groggy, like he'd just woken up from a nap or something, chuckling softly on the other line.

"Hey, baby. How's the tour?"

"Great! How was PAX?"

"Chaotic, as usual." Nate happily listened to Matt chatter for the next few minuets about how disorganized the panel directors had been, how his panel had been mixed up with Mark and the rest of his group's, and how his flight had been delayed a few hours on his way back home. Nate didn't mind listening to Matt when he went on his little tirades and rants. In his opinion, they were actually kind of cute.

"When do you plan on coming home? I miss you..." The raven-haired musician ran his fingers through his hair.

"Tonight is the last show in New York and I'll be on the flight home right after that." He assured, smiling at the pleased hum from his partner.

"Great, I've missed not being able to see you this month." Sure, the two had Skyped at nights after Nate's shows when the musician was almost too exhausted to form coherent sentences and keep his eyes open, but it wasn't the same as seeing each other in person.

"I've missed you, too, Matty." The two spoke for a few moments longer until Andy poked his head into the room.

"We're on in two minuets, Nate." Named male nodded, turning his attention back to his phone.

"I gotta go, baby doll. I'll text you on my way to the airport, alright?"

"Sounds good. Go kick some ass, baby. I love you."

"Don't I always? Love you, too, sweetheart."

The two soon hung up and Nate tossed his phone next to his guitar case and backpack he'd brought with him before retrieving his PRS mint green guitar, jogging out of the back room towards the stage, grinning at the roaring cheers from the crowd. He was hyped, practically buzzing with energy. That euphoric high he would get never seemed to fail to occur while he was on tour. Everything about it appealed to him, from the cheers and applause to the meet-ups and signings afterwards. The show peddled on for the next hour or so, followed up by the hour and a half meet-up. By the time everything was over, both he and Andy were exhausted, ready to crash. They would first have to return to the hotel before finally hitting the interstate to head to the airport. After that it would be a good four or so hours before they arrived in California, but, for Nate and the promise of returning to his brunette theorist, he could wait.

With everything loaded in the back of the rented U-Haul trailer attached to their car including sound equipment and instruments, Nate and Andy drove down the interstate, battling late-night traffic. Andy drove while Nate huddled under his leather jacket with his phone, the GPS pulled up as he played navigator. Traffic was absolute hell, as it usually was, but it seemed tonight it would be horrible. As they drove down the six-lane, a drunk driver careened out of nowhere, cutting across three lanes of traffic. "Andy!" Was the last thing Nate managed to yell as the car slammed into them, passenger side first, pressing them into the guardrail. Sparks flew and the most ungodly screech would be produced as metal ground against metal. When the cars finally stopped moving, Andy groaned as the airbag slammed into his chest, his head lulling lazily to the side to check the passenger side, his world a monochromatic blur.

Nate was limp, blood trickling down his cheek. The way his body was wedged between the dented and crushed metal and the middle console of the car kept him pinned upright. His shoulder was twisted agonizingly to the side as well, looking mostly dislocated. "Shit..." Andy managed to groan. "Nate... Nate, can you hear me?!" No answer would come from the smaller male. "Fuck... Fuck, Matt is going to kill me!" The brony declared to the silent air. He tried to wiggle himself free of the seatbelt, only to cry out, his ribs and left leg screaming in protest. His fingers twitched at his sides as he attempted to maneuver his hand towards his pocket and grab his phone, finally able to grab the device and worm his hand free from the hold of the console. His side of the car was wedged against the guard rail due to the larger car that was currently pressing into the passenger side, leaving the only option out as the sunroof.

So, after pulling his phone free and seeing it was undamaged, he called 911, holding the device between his ear and shoulder as he moved one limb at a time; first his right arm that was currently free, opening the fabric cover and managing to pull the plated glass of the sunroof back. Then his left arm followed as he leaned his aching side against the console and took a grip on the smooth metal, hauling himself up, grunting as he tugged his legs free from under the crushed dashboard. It was moments later when he finally wiggled himself free and pulled himself onto the hood of the car. All the while he talked to the operator, telling her where the crash was, to which she responded with a simple, "The EMTs are on the way." Once that was out of the way, he began working Nate out of the car, and finally, ten minuets later, he had the raven-haired musician out of the car and onto the pavement near the guard rail among the shattered glass of the windshield that glinted wickedly in the light pollution.

He checked his pulse, giving a sigh of relief when he found one. Okay... Okay, good. Nate wasn't dead. It was a few moments later that the screaming sirens pierced his ears and the glowing red and blue lights sliced through the yellowish-orange haze that lined the highway. Traffic had almost stopped considerably because of the crash and Andy hadn't left Nate's side, knowing the life of someone's partner rested in his hands. That and Matt would really kick his ass if Andy did tear his eyes away from the musician for even a few seconds. And it seemed news did really carry very fast. By the time the EMTs were lifting Nate and the drunk onto separate stretchers while checking Andy's vitals, bits and pieces of news were scattered over Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter and so on.

Matt had his phone off after talking to Nate so he could get some work done and not be distracted by the device. He filmed and set to editing, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. It was when he got up for a coffee break did he turn his phone back on and he was flooded by Twitter notifications, each one vaguely saying that they were praying for Nate and they were hoping Nate was okay. What was wrong with him? Matt's heart sunk as he opened up the Twitter feeds, his hands shaking as he scrolled through the numerous posts. It had been almost two hours since the crash, and Matt was just now hearing about it. And the worse part was, he didn't have Andy's number, so he couldn't call for consolation. And he knew he wouldn't be able to get a flight to New York until the next day. His stomach twisted with guilt and his eyes pricked with tears. What kind of boyfriend was he, not able to get to his partner in his time of need.

Matt didn't sleep for the rest of the night, his phone on hand in case Nate or Andy tried to get ahold of him after he'd bought plane tickets for a plane that departed first thing in the morning. The house he and Nate shared was normally quiet when he was on tour sure, but now, it was just eerie. The thought of Nate not making it through the night made his stomach twist into painful knots and made it absolutely impossible to sleep. Matt nuzzled into the pillows on Nate's side of the bed, trying to chase his scent that still barely clung to the fabric. He even tugged on one of Nate's hundreds of Legend Of Zelda shirts, hugging it close to his chest as he closed his tired oak eyes, sighing softly. Into the earlier hours of the morning, however, Matt's phone buzzed. He was shaken from his thoughts, his eyes falling on the device as he pried them open. His hand shakily reached out for his phone, expecting the worse. Though, his hopes perked up when he saw it was Nate's number and he couldn't answer fast enough.

"Baby, are you alright?!" He rushed out, only for a weak chuckle to answer him.

"Aw, Matt, I knew you cared." It was Andy's tired voice that answered him, leaving Matt to sigh softly, giving off a gentle laugh.

"Sorry, I saw Nate's number and thought it was him." The theorist propped himself up onto his elbows, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Speaking of which, how is he? Do you know anything?"

"I'm assuming you heard what happened then?" When Matt confirmed he had, there was a moment of silence before Andy continued to speak. "He's alright, just a bit battered up. The wreck was caused by a drunk driving dipshit who cut across into our lane, as well as two others. He's really just sleeping now, though he's been up the past few hours getting poked and prodded with needles."

"Are you hurt?" Andy yawned on the other line, wincing slightly.

"Not too much. My leg's hurt from being pinned under the dashboard, but nothing that would require crutches or a cast or anything and my ribs are bruised from hitting the console, but other then that, I'm alright. Nate really just has a cut deep cut on his forehead and left temple that needed to be stitched up and a dislocated shoulder that was already taken care of."

Matt loosed a sigh of relief. "Alright. I'll be there by lunch, okay? Tell Nate if he wakes up, please."

"Of course. See ya then, Matt."

"See ya." Matt hung up and flopped back into the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was so glad that Nate was okay, this lifting the crushing weight that had rested on his shoulders most of the night. It even made it easier to get a few hours of sleep in before he had to catch his five-thirty flight. It was exactly around lunch time when the plane touched down and he got into the rental car he'd called in a few hours earlier, speeding to the hospital. After getting Nate's room number from the nurse's station, he jogged to said room number, gently pushing the door open. Andy was there, leaning against the wall nearest the door to take the weight off of his leg, and Nate was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled around his waist, his form clothed by a mint green hospital gown. He also had a thin row of stitches in his forehead.

The brunette rushed over to his sweetheart, who smiled softly. "Hey..."

"Nate, I'm so so so sorry I couldn't get here sooner. The flight I took here was the earliest they had, and--" He was cut off as Nate pulled him down by his shirt, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Matt melted into it, his hands resting on either side of his boyfriend's small frame. When Nate pulled back, he smiled softly.

"Don't worry about it, love. I understand. You made it here, and that's all that matters." Matt chuckled weakly, combing his fingers through the smaller male's messy, bed ratted mess of midnight black hair.

"You know what this means, right?~" He cooed in a teasing tone, pressing a loving kiss to Nate's forehead.

"What does it mean, sweetheart?" Nate asked, looking up at the brunette, watching that devious smile spread across his lips.

"I get to take care of you for the next few days. Everything I say goes, got it?" His tone was playfully demanding, leaving Nate to chuckle.

"Oh, but of course, Doctor Patrick~ What would you like me to do?"

"I would like another kiss~"

"Oh, but of course, doctor~" He cooed, leaning up to press another kiss to Matt's lips, leaving Andy to groan playfully.

"Jesus, you two, get a room."


End file.
